


If you’re lonely, come be lonely with me

by Damichez



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Bisexuality, Crossdressing, Crossdressing Armin Arlert, Explicit Sexual Content, Feminization, Large Breasts, M/M, Mutual Masturbation, Name-Calling, Objectification, Porn With Plot, Top Jean Kirstein, just two bi dudes up to no good, shifting pronouns, they’re fake tho
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-02
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-15 14:12:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29809608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Damichez/pseuds/Damichez
Summary: Jean catches Armin crossdressing again and he can’t stop thinking about it.
Relationships: Armin Arlert/Jean Kirstein
Comments: 6
Kudos: 28





	If you’re lonely, come be lonely with me

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this thinking they’re in their 20s, and looking like they do in season 4. 
> 
> Definitely came to my mind after that one episode where Armin’s disguised as Historia. 
> 
> *Spoilers for end of season 3 btw  
> 

It started in the months following Historia’s ascension, and after the death of nearly all of the Survey Corps at Shiganshina. The planning and prep work before the long ride to whatever lay beyond the walls.  
  
They wondered about the sea. 

They had a rare day off, and Jean had gone out in the city to drink. He wanted to be with a woman. 

Passing through one of the crowded markets in the capital city, he caught sight of someone. She was by a fruit stand, in a flowing beige sundress that rippled in the wind like water. She wore a white sunhat. 

She’d just picked up a yellow pear when she turned and locked eyes with him, a street’s length away. The recognition was immediate. Jean wouldn’t have forgotten her. He’d seen her just months ago, tied up right in front of him on a chair in one of the Reeves’ warehouses, pretending to be a royal. 

Except back then, she was plainer, wearing only a simple blouse and skirt. She was grown now. Where she’d been flat before, now her chest was heavy and feminine under the thin dress. Her light blonde curls caught the sunlight.

She was staring with blue eyes blown wide, and so was he, and after a long moment, after standing there stupidly, he just turned his head and kept walking. 

He would forget this. He needed to forget this. He hadn’t seen anything. 

  
____  
  


The next day, the nine members of the Survey Corps met in the capital for a meeting with the supreme commander and the other leaders of the military. Jean stumbled into the room a minute late on purpose, and apologized as he came in, avoiding the blonde head sitting next to the only open chair. He sat down, eyes bolted forward. Somehow he turned off his peripheral vision completely. 

The meeting ended, and they left for the day’s duties. They were going to a stretch of countryside to test the colossal titan. Hange wanted to see if Armin moved the body the same way that Bertholdt had, the same red blur of slow motion, among other things. 

They traveled on their horses, a wagon in tow with some supplies, and not once did Jean and Armin acknowledge each other. They hardly ever spoke anyway, so nobody noticed. There was really no change at all, except for the tension electrifying the air between them. Nobody could feel it but them.

In general, it was strange seeing Armin these days. He’d grown harder, a more serious expression darkening his face - it had happened to all of them that were left. Armin’s brows were often knit together. His hair was cut shorter. He wasn’t girly, timid Armin anymore. He was just another war-changed young man.

He watched Armin now, hundreds of feet in the air in the body of a titan. Like a god on the earth. Or a scourge. The air burned.

It was strange how much things had changed.

Hange told Armin to lie down before getting out of the titan form, so Jean was able to watch from much closer as Armin emerged in his black suit. How his face and arms attached like tendons to the titan body, then ripped off, like a warm pastry splitting. 

Even half-awake, Armin’s brows were knit together. His short blonde hair moving about in the wind created by the scalding steam. 

It was so strange, that this was Armin. That this, and the woman with the rust-colored pear in her hand, was Armin. 

  
____  
  


They had all been staying in a boarding house in the capital of Wall Sina over the last few months. Temporary, and provided for by the military. The day after the titan test, Jean and Armin crossed paths in the kitchen of the house, as Jean turned the corner into it and Armin was walking out. They stopped in their tracks and stared at each other. 

“Sorry,” Armin mumbled, then quickly moved to get around Jean.

Jean stopped him by the arm. “-Wait, Armin wait. I don’t like the awkwardness. Can we talk?”

“About what?” Armin’s head was down and concealed in the shadows of the hallway. The harsh light in the kitchen cut into the black hallway like cut-out paper.

“Come on,” Jean was blushing now. “You- you know about what. I saw you at the market a couple days ago.”

Armin yanked his arm from Jean’s grasp.

“I wasn’t at any market. I was with Eren.”

Jean blinked. “Eren was running tests with Hange.”

“I was with them.”

“You were off that day. I was there when she told us to have the day off. Look-” Jean shook his head, “Armin, I know it was you, dressed like that.”

“And?” Anger in Armin’s voice now. “So what if it was?” practically yelling.

“So-” and Jean had to stop. Armin made a good point. There wasn’t anything to say.

“I guess . . . I dunno. You looked good.”

Armin didn’t move. He just stood with his back to Jean, which was great, excellent really, because if he turned he’d see that Jean’s whole face, neck, and ears were purple.

“Don’t tell anyone.” And Armin walked off down the hall, leaving Jean in the cut out square of light.

  
____  
  


More days of awkwardness. Their rooms were directly across from one another, which would’ve unnerved Jean, except that Armin made a point to leave early everyday so that they’d never cross paths. 

They didn’t interact when they were around each other. With everyone else, they were back to acting normal. There was nothing for anyone to notice. They were the same as always. Just Armin and Jean who had little to do with the other.

  
____  
  


A few weeks later, Jean went out with Sasha and Connie for drinks after work. On their way back, walking down the near-empty main street, he saw her again, standing by the black-iron railing of a stone bridge over the canal.

“Hey guys, you go on ahead. There’s something I gotta do before I head back.” His gaze was stuck on her as he said this.

Connie was dragging a completely sloshed Sasha. He grinned at Jean and shook his head. “Aiight Jean, have fun. Wrap up, ok?”

“Yeah,” Jean laughed weakly, and watched Connie continue on with Sasha groaning in his arms. Jean walked down the street to the bridge.

She was standing with her white sandals on the railing, like a kid might, looking down at the water.

“You should be careful,” Jean stepped behind her and put his hand on the railing next to her hand. He was still wearing his full uniform. 

She turned her head to him. Mascaraed eyelashes, black and fairy-like. Glossed lips that were catching the white light of the streetlamp above them. Slightly blushed cheeks, like the soft freckled patch of a peach. Jean was stopped dead in his tracks. His lungs had turned off. 

She was in a thin, baby blue dress that tied at the waist - mid-thigh length with ruffled hems. Her white sandals had satiny, pearl colored ribbons that tied around her ankles into bows. 

There was no woman more beautiful out tonight, Jean was sure of that. 

“Do you want to walk a bit?” Jean extended his hand, still awestruck. He had no idea what he was doing.

She stared at him with petrified eyes. She looked down at his hand, then back up at him. Then, she nodded once, tentatively, and put her hand in his and stepped down off the railing.

They walked along the canal. The air was warm, with the night wind occasionally blowing gentle and cool on their skin. They had a foot between their shoulders. This distance coursed with pressure. 

He looked over at her. She was walking with her eyes on the cobblestones. The canal water shined behind her in the moonlight, shimmering white like scales. He looked at her long lashes, those full glossed lips. Her blonde curls moving as she walked. 

Then there were her breasts, bouncing just slightly as she stepped. They looked so heavy and full, and were straining the top of her little blue dress. It was a good thing that Jean’s uniform pants were tight.

“You really- You really look amazing like this.”

Armin’s eyes looked up a little.

“I almost forget it’s you.”

The slight wind was picking up the hem of her dress, shifting the blue ruffles around her thighs. They were perfectly, flawlessly shaved. Who knew Armin had legs like this?

Ridiculous. It was so ridiculous who this was.

“You know, if you don’t want me to find you like this you should go farther out of town.”

“There’s so little time, for things like this,” Armin said quietly.

Jean scratched his head. “Yeah, I know.” Even finding the time to go out to drink with his friends was a luxury.

“How, um, how do you do that?” Jean asked. 

Armin looked up at him. Jean nodded to Armin’s chest. “They look so, well, real.”

Armin’s face blushed deeply. He looked down at them, then crossed his arms in shyness underneath them, which made it worse, made them 100 times more distracting. Jean was completely, unbearably hard.

“They’re um, they’re called breast forms,” Armin said. “You just put them in a . . . a bra.”

“Well, they work.” Jean knew he was purple again, and this time, Armin looked up at him. 

Then out of nowhere, Armin stepped into Jean. Jean’s body immediately went into panic mode, shivers running up every limb. 

Until he realized Armin stepped to let two people pass by.

“What a beautiful couple,” they heard from behind. Jean and Armin both turned to look at a middle aged man and woman, arm in arm, dressed like they’d been to the opera. 

They stood stupidly as the couple’s voice trailed off into the evening. The canal water lapped softly at the banks. 

“What do you mean they work?” Armin whispered after they were alone.

Jean swallowed audibly. “They just . . .” 

They were right there, right in front of him, just inches from his own chest. He looked at Armin- No- this wasn’t Armin. This was the most beautiful fucking woman he’d ever seen in his life. Facing her this close, with the night wind blowing her light blonde curls, he could see now that she was wearing dangling earrings shaped like teardrops. Opals. The moonlight was catching them, the same way it was catching her eyes. This flawless face wasn’t Armin’s, this was a woman he wanted more than he’d ever wanted anyone before. 

Jean didn’t need to answer. Armin understood. 

“Do you want to go back?” Armin asked.

“. . . back?” Swallowing a lump.

“To the house.” Jean could see from Armin’s bloomed cheeks exactly what he meant.

He nodded. They turned and walked back.

  
____  
  


Jean closed the door to his room and locked it.

Armin was standing in the center looking around, as if their rooms were any different. They were all the same. Worn wood floors and vintage wallpaper. A window. An iron framed bed. A desk and lamp. A full length mirror on one wall.

Jean hadn’t had a girl in his room like this before. As a kid he’d fooled around a few times in the woods of his hometown in Trost. As an adult, he’d only had time for prostitutes. He’d thought about Mikasa a lot, but she’d never wanted him. 

And now there was this woman. This woman who wasn’t even a woman. This was Armin Arlert. This was his brother-in-arms. 

Jean walked to him. He caught a scent like hyacinths. 

“You even smell nice,” he said, dipping his neck to hers to smell.

She didn’t move. She stood with her hands held together in front of her legs. It made her breasts stand out even more, slightly pressed together from Armin’s upper arms. 

“What do you want?” Jean whispered.

“I want you to treat me like a woman.”

The rush of blood to his dick. “You know that’s all I want to do.” 

He turned his head and looked at them in the mirror to his left. Armin looked too. They looked perfect. A man in uniform and his pretty girl.

Jean turned back to Armin and looked down, at what he was most fixated on.

Gently, he put his hands on them. 

They were heavier than he expected, weighty, like real breasts of the same size. They were too big for Armin’s frame, which made it all the sexier, made it all the more perverted. Jean gripped them, squeezing, and out of nowhere, Armin let out a breath. 

Jean stopped squeezing. Armin’s face was flushed.

“You like that . . . ?” Jean whispered.

Armin swallowed, nodded. Slowly, he lifted his hands to rest on top of Jean’s, on his breasts. 

“Again,” he said.

Jean squeezed again, and Armin bit his lip. _Armin likes this._

Jean pushed upwards a little, pushing them together. Armin breathed out again, almost a moan, and it was so cute, it was so ridiculously cute. Armin arched his back, pushed his chest forward- greeting Jean’s hands- asking for more. Jean’s eyes were opened wide, almost crazed, staring at this sight. It was unbelievable that he was seeing this, touching this. This wasn’t real. This couldn’t be real. 

Without thinking, Jean dipped his neck and kissed her. This wasn’t a girl - this was Armin. These huge tits in his hands weren’t real; they were being worn on the body of a boy. And something about this made it all the better, that all of this was put together to turn him on and wrack his brain. He moved his jaw once, twice, tasting this pliant, sexy girl in his hands. She was all his, this was all his.

When Jean opened his eyes and pulled back, Armin looked shocked.

Jean said worriedly, “I’m sorry- was that- should I not have-”

“No it’s- I just didn’t expect it.” It was so strange to hear Armin’s voice under the makeup, under the hair, under all this beautiful woman.

“You’re so pretty,” Jean said. He wasn’t thinking. He couldn’t stand himself. He was blushing just as much as Armin was.

Jean said it again, softer, “You’re so pretty.” 

Armin was just breathing, staring at Jean, red cheeks and big blue eyes. Jean bent to kiss him again, to kiss this pretty girl. Under Jean’s mouth, Armin opened his. Jean moaned. She wanted this. He worked Armin’s mouth with his jaw. 

They stepped into each other. Her breasts pressed into his chest, and Jean liked this. He liked that he could tell they weren’t real, that this girl was fake, like a bimbo or a sex doll, her only purpose to tempt men. 

He held her waist, loving how thin the dress fabric was, how smooth and feminine it was as he ran his hands downwards over her small hips. Then lower, over her ass. He squeezed it, and Armin moaned into his mouth, and then with one hand Jean slapped her buttcheek. The way it jiggled, just barely.

He smoothed his hands over it again. He wanted to feel it under the dress. 

He grabbed the dress fabric, as if he was getting ready to pull up, and he whispered, “Can I?” lifting just slightly. 

Armin nodded. He pressed his forehead into Jean’s shoulder.

Jean pivoted their bodies a little, facing Armin’s back to the mirror. Jean looked into the mirror as he lifted Armin’s dress up, watching Armin’s thighs reveal, watching his butt come into view. No panties, nothing. 

“Hold your dress up,” Jean said, gaze transfixed.

Armin complied, holding it bunched under his arms. 

It was beautiful and round. Each cheek was so soft. The illusion was so good, even down to touch. 

He ran his hands over her cheeks, feeling their softness, squeezing. Then, without thinking, he spread them apart. He wanted to look between them. 

Armin lifted his head and stepped back. “Jean!” Staring at him.

“Sorry- I’m sorry . . . I don’t really know what’s okay.”

“I know . . . I was just surprised, I guess. I’ve never done anything like this.”

“Me neither.”

And then Jean’s jaw dropped. Because Armin had stepped back. Because Jean was now facing a woman with her blue dress bunched up in her arms. With her long, smooth bare legs showing. Her pearl-ribboned sandals on her slightly spread feet. Her cock standing erect in front of her, spitting.

This sight could’ve killed him. 

“You can- you can do it again,” Armin said.

“You sure?” Jean asked, closing their distance. He didn’t know how someone could be this cute, blushing like this, with her bare legs and bare butt showing.

His hands on her ass again, his mouth to her ear. 

He looked in the mirror and spread her cheeks like before, opening it so he could see. She arched her back and stepped her legs apart. It was pink, and pretty, and sinful. This place where nothing should enter, and yet it was daring you to enter. 

“Such a pretty asshole,” Jean whispered. He pressed his lips right to Armin’s ear, “I want to see it closer.”

Armin was shaking. “Jean- I can’t- Talking like that . . .”

Jean smiled against her ear. “Everything about you is so pretty. I’m so hard ‘cause of you.” He kissed her ear, and she shivered. “Touch it,” he said, and she reached between their bodies and touched it. 

Jean didn’t know he could talk this way to someone. Maybe because it was Armin, maybe because there really was no woman in the room.

He put his finger in his mouth, wetting it, then pressed it to her hole. He circled around the rim. It was soft, yielding. She was shaking, rocking her hips, clutching at the back of his uniform. Her other hand was still on his cock. 

His finger slipped in easily. So easily. 

“Have you done this before?” his finger dipping in and out slowly.

“Yeah . . . alone.”

“Such a dirty girl. Such a bad girl.” Jean kept kissing her ear, her smooth neck. All of his fantasies, all right here in his hands.

He fingered her for a while, rewetting his fingers every now and then. Something about it turned him on, putting his two fingers in his mouth after they’d been in her ass. He listened to the slick sounds her hole made. It was so dirty. It was so fucking hot.

When he pulled his fingers out again to wet them, Armin stopped him. “Wait.” He turned around, his ass to Jean’s pelvis, and placed Jean’s hands back on his breasts. 

“I want to look too,” Armin said.

Now they were two guys, and they were both looking at her.

“See what a sexy woman you are?” Jean said, his voice deep and quiet. He was kneading her tits. “These big tits.”

Armin nodded. It was even hotter now. This was so sick. They were both in on this.

Armin said, “Your hands look so good on them. I like how you treat them.”

“Yeah?” Jean slapped one, watched it bounce and settle.

“Again, fuck- please do that again. Please slap her.” So Jean slapped her.

“She looks like a whore, Armin. You make her look like a whore.”

“Fuck,” Armin leaned his head back on Jean’s shoulder. Armin reached for his own cock under the dress ruffles and started stroking, and Jean was rutting against Armin’s ass. They were both going to come from this.

“Lift them, Jean. Hold her boobs. Like you own her.”

“Jesus.” This wasn’t real. None of this could be real. 

Jean held the undersides of her breasts in his hands, lifting them, feeling them bounce and shift the thin fabric of the dress as he rutted against her ass. He kept saying things about the size of her tits against Armin’s cheek, and Armin breathed out _yeah’s_ and _fuck’s_ as they both looked at this shameless sight in the mirror. 

And then Armin was coming, falling to his knees. Jean quickly unzipped and pulled his cock out. He stroked himself, staring at this kneeling girl on the floor in front of him, her big breasts hanging as she jerked herself, squatting in her pretty white sandals, her ass bare, just a few inches from the floor. He came too, staring right at her, and in the mirror, they locked eyes, finishing together like that. 

They held their gazes until they were completely spent. Jean standing above her with his cock out, dripping. Armin squatting on the floor, looking up through black feather lashes.

Everything was in their expressions. Everything that they’d just done. And slowly, embarrassment washed over them.

  
____  
  
  


“I feel like we just defiled someone,” Jean said afterwards. They were sitting on his bed on either ends, leaning against the wall behind them. 

Armin’s outfit and wig were gone - he’d slipped out to his room briefly to undress and wipe his makeup off. He was just in sweats now, shirtless. Plain old Armin.

“Yeah, we did,” Armin said. His brows were knit together again, deep in thought. He was looking at his hands in his lap.

Jean said, “I don’t know how I feel right now.”

“Me neither.”

He’d opened the window afterwards because they’d gotten so hot, but now, sometime later, the night coolness was springing bumps along his arms.

Jean asked what he’d been wondering for a while, “Do you want to be a woman?” 

A grin quirked one side of Armin’s mouth. “No. I just like it.”

“What do you like about it?”

Armin chewed his lip, thinking. “I think, because I’m attracted to women, it turns me on to see a woman like that in the mirror. And I can make her do whatever I want.” He paused. “I can humiliate her and sexualize her all I want.”

“Jeez Armin, is that you over there?” 

Armin smirked and turned his head to Jean. “I’m a gross guy too.”

“Man, even I wouldn’t be caught saying shit like that.”

Armin shrugged. “I don’t think it would work if I didn’t look like I do. If I looked like you I don’t think it’d have the same effect.” 

Jean wasn’t going to let that one rile him up. “What do you get from me then?” he asked.

“You, I guess. You’re hot. And, seeing your desire for me like that turns me on. I’m not-” Armin turned his head down, “I’m not as manly as you.”

Jean was smirking now. “You think I’m hot?”

“You know you are.”

Jean looked up at the ceiling, smiling. “Manly,” he repeated to himself.

“What about you?” he heard Armin ask.

Jean had a pillow in his lap, and he was playing with the corner of it. “Well . . . I _have_ been thinking about it. I like women. I really fucking like women. But, I dunno, there's something about it being you dressed up like that.” 

He shrugged. “Dunno. Maybe I’m a little bi.”

“How do you feel about me like this?”

Jean looked over at Armin. He was sitting with his legs out in front of him and his hands together in his lap. If you could call another man sweet, he’d probably call this one sweet. It was how his shoulders were a little hunched forward, his lips full and slightly parted, his big eyes, waiting. Under the orange lamplight, gentle light, like a sunrise, Armin’s skin looked soft. He thought of oil paintings. His gaze stopped on Armin’s nipples. It was hard not to. They were bigger than Jean’s, puffier.

Jean wondered why some guys retained their youth so strongly while others didn’t.

“You’re an ugly dude now.”

Armin frowned. “Even I know I’m not an ugly dude.”

“Whatever,” Jean grumbled. He looked over at the window. Hearing a wagon clacking by, he remembered how soon they’d have to get up. “We gotta sleep.”

“Right,” Armin said. He got up to leave, slowly, like he was reluctant. 

When Armin was at the door, Jean opened his mouth against his better judgement. “I’m not gonna be able to stop thinking about you.”

Armin turned around. Jean knew he looked pathetic, leaned back on his bed all tired and red eared like he was. Like an idiot. This was Armin, and that girl on the canal, that girl on the worn wood floor, she was a fantasy.

“You know I won’t stop either.”

They were looking at each other like kindergarteners, faces all screwed up in shyness. Two shirtless, embarrassed young men with a little bit of shame between them.

Jean said, “Maybe we can go out again one night soon.”

Armin nodded, smiling a little, then he left the room. 

Jean had never had much luck with women, but maybe he could have this fantasy girl for a while. He shoved the pillow into his face and fell down on the bed.


End file.
